A Midsummer Night's Dream (2 page)

Quince nodded. ‘It's called
The Most Lamentable Comedy and Most Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby
.'

‘Terrific,' said Bottom. ‘I do love a nice snappy title, don't you?' Titters from the others. He looked at Quince. ‘So what's the
dramatis personae
, and who's playing whom?'

‘
Dramatis personae
?' sneered Quince. ‘
Whom
? What are you doing, Bottom – practising for mingling with Theseus's posh guests at the reception?'

‘Am I hummer,' denied Bottom. ‘There's nowt wrong with talking the Queen's English. Just tell us our parts.'

Quince consulted his notebook. ‘You're playing Pyramus.'

Bottom nodded. ‘OK, and what
is
he – a soldier, a dictator or what?'

‘He's a lover. Dies heroically for love.'

‘Ah, so it's a tearjerker! Well, I hope these wedding guests bring plenty of Kleenex, 'cause I've been known to make
stones
weep. Mind you, I'm cut out more for your ultraviolent roles, really.'

Quince ignored this, too. ‘Flute,' he said, ‘you'll do Thisby.'

‘And what's he – a knight errant?' asked Flute.

‘He's a
she
,' Quince told him. ‘The woman Pyramus loves.'

Flute shook his head. ‘I can't play a woman – I've just started growing a beard.'

‘Doesn't matter,' said Quince, ‘you'll be
wearing a mask, and you're good at the pale pink voice – we've heard you.'

‘I could play Thisby
and
Pyramus,' offered Bottom, ‘since I'd be masked.
I
do a good woman's voice.'

‘No,' ruled Quince. ‘You're Pyramus, Flute's Thisby – it's settled.'

‘Get on with it then,' growled Bottom.

‘Starveling?'

‘Present, sir,' said Starveling.

‘You're Thisby's mother. Snout?'

‘What?' mumbled Snout.

‘You'll play Pyramus's father. I'll do Thisby's father myself. Snug – you're the lion.' Quince closed his notebook and smiled. ‘All done. Any questions?'

Snug raised a hand. ‘Have you got a copy of the lion's part I could borrow? I'm a bit slow learning lines.'

Quince shook his head. ‘You have no lines, Snug. It's just roaring.'

‘Let
me
play the lion,' cried Bottom. ‘
I'll
show you roaring. I'll roar so loud, Theseus'll know he's not the only big noise round here.'

‘Yeah, right,' growled Quince. ‘But you'll scare his bride spitless, and he'll send some of his lads round to rearrange our bones.'

Bottom shook his head. ‘I don't
have
to roar loud, Quince. I could roar like a dove, or even a nightingale.'

Quince sighed. ‘Knock it off, Bottom, for Pete's sake. You're playing Pyramus, a gentleman. It's the perfect part for you.'

‘What sort of beard should I wear?'

Quince shrugged. ‘Makes no odds. Any sort. You could be cleanshaven, if you like.' He turned to the others. ‘Listen. Take your parts and learn them by tomorrow night. We'll meet in the wood, where we won't be disturbed, and rehearse. We don't want anybody knowing before the wedding what we're going to do. Now, I'm off to make a list of props we'll steal or borrow. Meanwhile, learn your lines off pat, before we meet tomorrow.'

 

Cottingley Wood was known to harbour fairies, and it was the place that the fairy queen, Titania, had chosen to stay while waiting to bless Theseus and Hippolyta on their wedding night. The wood was close to Theseus's house, which made it handy.

Oberon had chosen it for the same reason. He was king of the fairies, and wanted to bless the happy couple, too. Trouble was, he and Titania were in the middle of a terrific row over an Indian boy that she had and he coveted. Cottingley Wood wasn't very big, and the two were almost certain to bump into each other while staying there. To make matters worse, Oberon had brought along his attendant, Puck, a mischievous elf who was also known as Robin Goodfellow.

On the evening Hermia and Lysander were due to meet in the wood, Puck encountered a fairy there.

‘Hi,' grinned the elf. ‘Where've
you
blown in from?'

‘Everywhere,' answered the fairy. ‘I serve our queen, Titania. It means a lot of travelling.' She glanced about her. ‘In fact, I'd better be getting on – she's due here any minute with her retinue.'

Puck pulled a face. ‘That's awkward. King Oberon'll be here shortly with
his
. You'd better warn your mistress: he's still mad at her.'

The fairy looked at the elf. ‘You're Robin Goodfellow, aren't you? The one who plays practical jokes all the time? You serve King Oberon, who likes that sort of thing.'

Puck nodded. ‘Correct – not much gets by
you
. And
whoops
, speak of the devil, here's Oberon now.'

‘And there's Titania!' cried the fairy. ‘How they'll row. I hate that kind of stuff – I'm outta here.'

As the fairy flew off, Titania and Oberon practically bumped into each other.

‘Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,' growled Oberon.

Titania smiled. ‘Still jealous are we, Oberon?' She looked at him. ‘You're here for the wedding, I suppose. Theseus and Hippolyta? You mean to bring them luck, but the world's gone mad since you and I fell out. We've had spring in winter, frost in June, floods the year round, till we can't tell the seasons apart.'

‘Then stop defying me,' snapped Oberon. ‘All you have to do is give me that boy, and everything'll get back to normal.'

Titania shook her head. ‘His mother was my friend. She died giving birth to him. That's why I'm looking after him. I can never give him up.'

‘Huh!' Oberon glowered. ‘And how long do you plan to stay in this wood?'

‘Till after the wedding.' Titania smiled. ‘We intend to celebrate the occasion, join us if you wish!'

‘Give me the boy and I might.'

‘Not for all your kingdom.' Titania turned
to her retinue. ‘Come, fairies, let us leave. There'll be bloodshed if we stay here longer.'

‘Go then!' cried Oberon, as Titania departed. ‘I'll get even before you leave Cottingley, see if I don't.' He called to his elf. ‘Puck?'

‘I'm here.'

‘Did I ever tell you about the time I saw Cupid loose one of his arrows at somebody, and he missed, and the arrow fell on a certain white flower? The flower turned purple, and girls call it
Love in Idleness
?'

‘You told me.'

‘Well, I want you to bring me the juice of that flower.' He smiled. ‘If a drop of the juice gets onto someone's eyelid while they sleep, they'll fall in love with the first creature they see on waking. I want you to fly as fast as you can to where that flower grows.'

Puck nodded. ‘I'll put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes,' he boasted.

With Puck in orbit, Oberon felt quite smug.
I'll make Titania fall in love with something really bizarre
, he promised himself,
and I won't let her have the antidote till she gives me the Indian boy
.

He heard a sound. ‘Somebody's coming – two mortals. I'm invisible to them, I'll stay and earwig.'

The two mortals were Demetrius and Helena.

As Oberon watched and listened, Demetrius turned on the miserable girl and snarled, ‘I don't love you at all, Helena. In fact it makes me puke to look at you, so I don't know why you bother following me.' He peered all around. ‘Where
are
Lysander and Hermia? You said they'd be here. I'm going to kill
him
and drag
her
back to her father.'

‘I can't
help
following you,' wailed Helena. ‘I'm under your spell.'

Demetrius scoffed. ‘Do I speak tenderly to you? Lead you on? No, I don't, so leave. It's dangerous in the wood at night, and
I'm
not going to protect you.'

‘If I could
fight
for your love, I would,' cried Helena. ‘But girls can't. We're made to be wooed, not to woo.'

‘Get
lost
, will you?' Demetrius spun on his heel and plunged into the shadow under the trees.

Helena stumbled after him as best she could.

Oberon followed the pathetic girl with his eyes. ‘I'll promise you this, sweetheart,' he murmured. ‘Before that lad leaves the wood, it'll be him following you, and you won't want to know.'

As the two mortals moved away, Puck appeared.

Oberon looked at him. ‘Did you find the flower?'

‘I did.'

‘Let me have it.'

The elf handed over a handful of purple blooms.

Oberon grinned. ‘I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,' he murmured. ‘Titania often sleeps there. I'll find her, paint her eyelids with the juice from these.' He divided the bunch, gave half back to Puck. ‘Take these, and go after the mortals who were here. The lady loves the youth, but he disdains her. Paint his eyes, and make sure the lady's the first thing he'll see when he wakes. Meet me here at dawn.'

As Puck and Oberon were parting, in another part of the wood, Titania was preparing to sleep.

‘Come, fairies,' she commanded, ‘and sing me to sleep with a lullaby.' She lay with her head on a cushion of thyme, and closed her eyes.

The fairies sang so sweetly that their queen was soon asleep. Leaving one of their number to watch over her, they dispersed to carry out the various tasks she had set for them. Some
were to cure buds that might otherwise rot. Others must hunt down tiny bats, and take their leathery wings to be turned into coats for Titania's elves. And some were commanded to drive away owls whose hooting might disturb their mistress's sleep.

The fairies had not been long gone when Oberon came creeping through the trees. He moved so stealthily that the sentry didn't see him. He bent over the sleeping Titania and squeezed juice from the flowers onto her eyelids.

‘What thou seest when thou dost wake,' he whispered, ‘do it for thy true love take.' He stood for a moment, gazing down at her, then left as silently as he'd come.

A short time later, Lysander and Hermia reached that part of the wood. ‘I think we're a bit lost,' admitted Lysander. ‘Maybe we should get some sleep, eh? Wait for daylight.'

‘Fine,' murmured Hermia. ‘Find yourself a spot to lie on – this bank will do for me.'

‘We can
both
lie on the bank,' suggested Lysander. ‘Two heads, one pillow.'

‘Uh-uh.' Hermia shook her head. ‘I'm afraid that's
not
a good idea, my love. I need my space.'

So the lovers found their separate beds, said goodnight and were sound asleep when Puck came wandering in their direction, muttering to himself.

‘I see no mortals. No ardent maid, no scornful youth. Wild goose chase if you ask … hey!' He spotted the lovers. ‘
That's
them – must be. See how they lie apart when they might lie entwined.' He approached Lysander. ‘Misery guts,' he hissed. ‘Ignorant wuss. I'll sort
you
, pal, no danger.' He squeezed juice onto the lad's eyelids, cackled to himself, and caught a lift with a breeze that was going his way.

No sooner had Puck left, than Demetrius appeared, running, with Helena stumbling after him.

‘Stop!' gasped the desperate girl. ‘I can't run any more.'

‘Get away from me,' snarled Demetrius. ‘Go home.'

‘You won't leave me here in the dark, my love?'

‘You better believe it, Helena. I'm off.' Demetrius ran on, leaving the girl bent over, fighting for breath.

‘I wish,' she gasped, ‘that I looked like Hermia – had her sparkling eyes. He wouldn't run from me
then
. In fact he'd probably…' She broke off. A short distance away, somebody was lying on the ground. Helena approached cautiously, holding her breath.